Chapter Text
In honour of inter-house unity, potions professor, Horace Slughorn, assigned his students to sit beside a member of a different house.
His NEWT level class was filled with an assortment of blues, reds, yellows and greens- sparse (considering the difficulty of the course and the exclusivity of the class), however, the colours remained plentiful.
Unbeknownst to the old slugger, he seated Hogwarts’ Slytherin Prince beside his long-term, unrequited, Hufflepuff crush (not that he’d ever admit that to anyone- maybe except his reflection).
Draco Malfoy was whipped. In every sense of the word, Y/N had Hogwarts’ Slytherin Prince bewitched.
Memories of their first year encounter only force him to recoil into himself, feelings of embarrassment in recollection of his actions.
He was childish and mean and didn’t understand how to handle the fluttering in the pit of his stomach when you’d laugh or the flush of rouge that started at his ears and dusted his cheeks when you’d be nearby.
You, a Hufflepuff half-blood- the pureblooded Slytherin Prince and lone heir to the Malfoy-Black dynasty knew he had no business associating with someone of the likes of you.
So, much like other young boys who didn’t know any better, he did the only thing he knew how- pick fun.
Bullying: a better word to describe it to more insightful individuals.
Draco Malfoy bullied the girl who caused a ruckus to his heartbeat and clamminess to envelop his palms.
Was he proud of his actions? Not entirely.
The mere acknowledgement, slight of attention you’d spare him (albeit, to you it was torture) was enough to satisfy his need to see you- to speak with you and hear the voice that made his insides feel like mush because Draco Malfoy secretly enjoyed the rush of being around you.
So no, he wasn’t happy to see you flee, tears welling your eyes as you brushed past his shoulder. But you brushed past his shoulder, and moments like those made it impossible for him to stop.
He liked you looking at him, noticing him.
However, what he didn’t like was when you started avoiding him.
Sometime around your third year, you’d had enough, and as much as you wanted to fight back, you couldn’t. Instead, you chose your next best option: avoidance. The less you saw of him, the safer you felt and the easier Hogwarts became for you.
However, for the Malfoy heir, who spent every waking inconvenience searching for you in every room he entered, when your sudden disappearance became far more apparent, he felt the hurt pressing down into the corner of his bruised heart.
The same heart that his father taught him in his early youth so clearly to keep detached, locked and caged to avert from weakness and all things useless.
However, his heart was living and breathing and warm and (unbeknownst to the Slytherin Prince) becoming all things he perceived as useless all because of you.
Where were you?
The next time he saw you, you were walking hand in hand with Dean Thomas, Griffindor. Draco Malfoy was seething red, fury, jealousy and everything ugly seeping from his veins at the very sight.
True to his tutelage, Draco Malfoy decided to keep the loss of you and all attachments locked up in a place he refused to have access to.
He was extra cruel to you then.
Around your fifth year, after you and Dean recently split, the names and insults Draco Malfoy was giving you finally made you snap.
With the acquired Griffindor courage you’d learned from an entire year of being surrounded by them, you finally stood up to your fears of confrontation, giving the Slytherin Prince a run for his money.
You yelled at him for everything- the nasty comments, rude remarks, snickers in your presence- absolutely everything. Even the things you didn’t want to talk about: the crying, the pain, the fact you, for a time, believed every cruel thing he said about you.
That shut him up.
He never bothered you again after that.
Guilt overcoming every sense he felt- it was because of you that he realised the true weight of his words. Every action he made near you, in greed of wanting your attention, resulted in the opposite reaction.
He couldn’t erase the look of rage and tearful screams you darted his way. All he wanted to do was hold you, make you stop yelling, wipe the rageful tears streaming down your face and apologise with every fibre of his being.
So, much like other young boys who were taught to value strength and power, he couldn’t apologise. The words rose in his throat like bile and, disliking the taste, he swallowed the words down.
Instead, the Slytherin Prince settled on watching you from afar, watching as you built up your confidence, watching as your friends would comfort you through everything that hurt you (wishing that he could one day be in their place), watching as you succeeded in academics, and watching your presence light up every room you walked into.
You noticed, after your confrontation, that the number of victims Draco Malfoy terrorised significantly decreased. You also noticed that Draco Malfoy became reserved and quiet and so unlike himself that you were concerned.
Although you liked that he had stopped bothering you, you had missed seeing him around. It bothered you that a part of you couldn’t stop thinking about your childhood bully.
He was childish, sure. However, somewhere over the past year, Draco Malfoy stopped looking like a ferocious bully, instead, he looked lonely and sad- so, so sad.
For this reason, you were happy to have him as your sixth-year Potions partner. Just as you observed last year, he was distant and quiet; your brow raised as you tried to figure him out.
As Slughorn started his first potions lesson of the year, Draco felt your gaze all over him. Shame and regret dusted his cheeks in crimson as he edged his stool further away from you, picking up his quill to scribble nonsensical notes all over his parchment.
He couldn’t focus when your eyes were trailing him. Dropping his quill, he anxiously twisted the signet ring on his right-hand ring finger with his thumb, feeling the cool silver against his skin ease the sensation of his palms' perspiration.
More than anything, he felt horrible. Having to sit next to “ the bane of your existence ” (your words, which you so heavily stressed in your heated confrontation). Having to work with someone who made you suffer as much as you had; having to spend hours a week in the same proximity as the likes of him- and most of all, he felt horrible that, despite you most likely hated every part of him, he still longed to be around you.
It was for this reason that he was anything but happy to have you as his potions partner.
When you tilted your head to speak, Draco prepared for the worst of words to fall from your lips. He readied himself to take whatever insult or comment you deserved to throw his way, and this time- he’d take it.
Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts’ Slytherin Prince, sole heir to the Malfoy-Black dynasty and childish boy who didn’t know any better, prepared for you to break his heart.
“I like your ring,” Your whisper cut through all his thoughts as his gaze flickered to yours, his brows twisted in confusion.
Your eyes trailed over the curves of his hands, his slender fingers and the pale skin that enveloped them as they moved in quick motions, scribbling at his parchment with a quill so elegant that you decided it suited him.
The silver band wrapped around his writing hand, the light reflecting against the metal and casting beautiful flecks of sunlight against the ceiling.
“I said I like your ring,” You repeated, slightly louder this time but careful enough not to draw Slughorn’s attention as you gestured to his hands.
Your words left the unsaid lingering in the air: “ I forgive you, ”
It was the second time that you had rendered Draco Malfoy utterly speechless.
He closed his mouth, which had fallen slightly agape at the sound of you speaking to him- this time not with dread, not with fear, not with tears and not with rage. This time you had spoken to him with no sign of maliciousness- only pure, concentrated kindness.
It was more than he knew he deserved.
“Thank you,” the tips of his ears painted red as you flashed him a bright, genuine smile- a sight so beautiful he wanted it imprinted into every corner of his mind.
Never in his childish youth did he envision himself ever wanting or needing such a plain gesture- especially from you. He’d seen it throughout all his years at Hogwarts, the contagious nature of it left all of your company with such giddiness, but never this close- never as the recipient.
His lips, pressed tightly by nature, reciprocated a smile- half teeth and a slight crinkle of his eyes.
You’d never seen Draco Malfoy smile.
You were taken aback, to say the least. Sure, you’d seen him smirk, seen him chuckle, you’d even seen him grin- but you’d never seen him smile . Every expression was always laced with mischief, sarcasm or boyishness which always left you as the brunt of the joke.
Your grin belted shut as you snapped your focus on your parchment, void of writing, from Draco’s eyes as you tuned back into Slughorn’s lesson.
The genuineness in the twinkle of his eyes made your cheeks flare in colours of rouge, not too dissimilar from his ears. Soon enough, you’d get the blonde boy to feel less lonely. You made the promise to yourself, and also to him.